Vin lost track of the conversation, a combination of medication and the floaty, cloudless, drifting lightness that the medication gave him and the fact that Josh and Beau moved on to discussing football, a subject about which Vin had never been able to muster much enthusiasm, made even more tedious when he realized they were discussing European football. Soccer. Intelligent American people called it soccer.
“I don’t care what you say, farm-boy,” Josh snarked. “Germany’s got no shot over Brazil.”
“I’ll put a fiver on that you’re wrong,” Beau countered.
Yeah, whatever. Vin let his eyes slip closed. Another glorious side effect of the medication he was taking; the world spun sideways, not quite throwing him off, but enough so that he wanted to seatbelt himself into the chair, just to make
